Essential Novelists - Nikolai Gogol. Nikolai Gogol
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Yes, he is a Thetuk, a regular Thetuk.”
With that they repaired to the parlour, where, on Porphyri bringing candles, Chichikov perceived that his host had produced a pack of cards.
“I tell you what,” said Nozdrev, pressing the sides of the pack together, and then slightly bending them, so that the pack cracked and a card flew out. “How would it be if, to pass the time, I were to make a bank of three hundred?”
Chichikov pretended not to have heard him, but remarked with an air of having just recollected a forgotten point:
“By the way, I had omitted to say that I have a request to make of you.”
“What request?”
“First give me your word that you will grant it.”
“What is the request, I say?”
“Then you give me your word, do you?”
“Certainly.”
“Your word of honour?”
“My word of honour.”
“This, then, is my request. I presume that you have a large number of dead serfs whose names have not yet been removed from the revision list?”
“I have. But why do you ask?”
“Because I want you to make them over to me.”
“Of what use would they be to you?”
“Never mind. I have a purpose in wanting them.”
“What purpose?”
“A purpose which is strictly my own affair. In short, I need them.”
“You seem to have hatched a very fine scheme. Out with it, now! What is in the wind?”
“How could I have hatched such a scheme as you say? One could not very well hatch a scheme out of such a trifle as this.”
“Then for what purpose do you want the serfs?”
“Oh, the curiosity of the man! He wants to poke his fingers into and smell over every detail!”
“Why do you decline to say what is in your mind? At all events, until you DO say I shall not move in the matter.”
“But how would it benefit you to know what my plans are? A whim has seized me. That is all. Nor are you playing fair. You have given me your word of honour, yet now you are trying to back out of it.”
“No matter what you desire me to do, I decline to do it until you have told me your purpose.”
“What am I to say to the fellow?” thought Chichikov. He reflected for a moment, and then explained that he wanted the dead souls in order to acquire a better standing in society, since at present he possessed little landed property, and only a handful of serfs.
“You are lying,” said Nozdrev without even letting him finish. “Yes, you are lying my good friend.”
Chichikov himself perceived that his device had been a clumsy one, and his pretext weak. “I must tell him straight out,” he said to himself as he pulled his wits together.
“Should I tell you the truth,” he added aloud, “I must beg of you not to repeat it. The truth is that I am thinking of getting married. But, unfortunately, my betrothed’s father and mother are very ambitious people, and do not want me to marry her, since they desire the bridegroom to own not less than three hundred souls, whereas I own but a hundred and fifty, and that number is not sufficient.”
“Again you are lying,” said Nozdrev.
“Then look here; I have been lying only to this extent.” And Chichikov marked off upon his little finger a minute portion.
“Nevertheless I will bet my head that you have been lying throughout.”
“Come, come! That is not very civil of you. Why should I have been lying?”
“Because I know you, and know that you are a regular skinflint. I say that in all friendship. If I possessed any power over you I should hang you to the nearest tree.”
This remark hurt Chichikov, for at any time he disliked expressions gross or offensive to decency, and never allowed any one—no, not even persons of the highest rank—to behave towards him with an undue measure of familiarity. Consequently his sense of umbrage on the present occasion was unbounded.
“By God, I WOULD hang you!” repeated Nozdrev. “I say this frankly, and not for the purpose of offending you, but simply to communicate to you my friendly opinion.”
“To everything there are limits,” retorted Chichikov stiffly. “If you want to indulge in speeches of that sort you had better return to the barracks.”
However, after a pause he added:
“If you do not care to give me the serfs, why not SELL them?”
“SELL them? I know you, you rascal! You wouldn’t give me very much for them, WOULD you?”
“A nice fellow! Look here. What are they to you? So many diamonds, eh?”
“I thought so! I know you!”
“Pardon me, but I could wish that you were a member of the Jewish persuasion. You would give them to me fast enough then.”
“On the contrary, to show you that I am not a usurer, I will decline to ask of you a single kopeck for the serfs. All that you need do is to buy that colt of mine, and then I will throw in the serfs in addition.”
“But what should I want with your colt?” said Chichikov, genuinely astonished at the proposal.
“What should YOU want with him? Why, I have bought him for ten thousand roubles, and am ready to let you have him for four.”
“I ask you again: of what use could the colt possibly be to me? I am not the keeper of a breeding establishment.”
“Ah! I see that you fail to understand me. Let me suggest that you pay down at once three thousand roubles of the purchase money, and leave the other thousand until later.”
“But I do not mean to buy the colt, damn him!”
“Then buy the roan mare.”
“No, nor the roan mare.”
“Then you shall have both the mare and the grey horse which you have seen in my stables for two thousand roubles.”
“I require no horses at all.”
“But you would be able to sell them again. You would be able to get thrice their purchase price at the very first fair that was held.”
“Then sell them at that fair yourself, seeing that you are so certain of making a triple profit.”
“Oh, I should make it fast enough, only I want YOU to benefit by the transaction.”
Chichikov duly thanked his interlocutor, but continued to decline either the grey horse or the roan mare.
“Then buy a few dogs,” said Nozdrev. “I can sell you a couple of hides a-quiver, ears well pricked, coats like quills, ribs barrel-shaped, and paws so tucked up as scarcely to graze the ground when they run.”
“Of what use would those dogs be to me? I am not a sportsman.”
“But I WANT you to have the dogs. Listen. If you won’t have the dogs, then buy my barrel-organ. ‘Tis a splendid instrument. As a man of honour I can tell you that, when new, it cost me fifteen hundred roubles. Well, you shall have it for nine hundred.”
“Come, come! What should I want with a barrel-organ? I am not a German, to go hauling it about the roads and begging for coppers.”
“But this is quite a